


Hello Again, Gravity Falls

by death_frisbee



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Excessive use of Dipper's real name, Gen, Growing Up, Lucid Dreaming, Minor Identity Issues, Possession, You know the kind that come from being 17
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-07-28 22:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7659253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/death_frisbee/pseuds/death_frisbee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the clean slate of adulthood and a position in an Archaeology program on the horizon, Dipper should be happy to move on from the weirdness of that summer five years ago. But when a little voice in his head tells him to go back to Gravity Falls, it's obvious that old wishes and problems aren't as easy to ignore as he thought.</p><p>*ON-HIATUS INDEFINITELY*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Graduation

It was a typical summer day in Gravity Falls. The sun was shining, tourists were milling in front of the Mystery Shack as Stan barked out his “No Refunds” speech, and downstairs it sounded like Mabel was choreographing a dance with Waddles.

It was all so natural, it took Dipper a minute to realize it was a dream.

Not that that was unusual. After that crazy summer five years ago, it was only natural that he’d dream about Gravity Falls—what always surprised him was how _peaceful_ these dreams were. It was from the simpler times, before Ford came back, before Weirdmaggedon. He sighed and leaned back in the windowseat, looking outside. Ah, wait, Soos drove a truck, not a sportscar. Better fix that.

“Excellent perception, Dipper.” A hand with too many fingers rumpled his hair, and Dipper laughed.

“This isn’t in line with the time frame, Grunkle Ford,” he warned playfully, still looking down at the scene outside.

“Anything’s possible in the mindscape. I thought my brother taught you that much.”

Dipper chuckled and turned around to look at Ford. “Well, I guess I couldn’t leave out my fav—” His smile died as he saw Ford pointing a huge deathray right at his face. “Gr-grunkle Ford?”

“I know what you’re doing.” Ford’s voice was low, and his eyes were narrowed to pinpoints. “And I’m not letting you back here. Not ever.”

“What?” Dipper felt his heart flip in his chest. He sat up and held up his hands. Could he fix this? “Grunkle Ford…it’s me, it’s Dipper,” he said quickly, trying his best to will Ford to see that.

“ _Don’t play this game with me!”_ Ford snapped, shoving the gun right into Dipper’s face.

“I’m not playing anything!” Dipper cried. Ford said nothing, merely aimed his shot.

Dipper cringed away. Would he die? Would he wake up? This had never happened in a dream! As he heard the ray charge and turned to shield his face, he caught his reflection staring back at him.

“No… _no!_ ”

Gazing back at him was a Dipper with a too-wide smile and yellow, slitted eyes.

~

Dipper cried out as he shot up in bed. He gasped in shallow breaths, looking around his room. He swallowed hard, trying to remember Ford’s instructions on knowing if you’re dreaming:

  1. Assess your surroundings—he was in his room, in Piedmont.
  2. Look for placemarks, preferably ones set by yourself—his laptop was on his desk at precisely a 45 degree angle, his glasses were propped up against his bedside lamp, and his old “Ghost Harassers” poster was right on the closet door, like it had been since he was ten.
  3. Start reading something _boring_ —brains, Ford had said, liked exciting things. If a hardware manual stays a hardware manual, then you’re definitely awake.



He grabbed the user’s manual for his laptop and focused on reading every word, breathing as evenly and slow as he could. His heartrate slowed, his breathing evened, and the muscles throughout his body slowly relaxed. Once he was calmed down and certain he was awake, he tossed down the book with a huff before he threw himself back onto his pillow. That had been the third nightmare this month; what was happening? Things were changing, yes, but surely not enough for… _anyone_ to start bothering him again. After all, the day had been saved. Weirdmageddon had been avoided.

_Bill was gone._

He let out another long breath, wrinkling his nose as he realized he was _drenched_ in sweat, then looked over at the clock. 5:12. There was no way he was getting back to sleep now; might as well start the day.

He got up, stretched, and headed straight to the bathroom. Probably for the best he woke up this early; Mabel was gonna hog it for the whole morning, he already knew, so he could actually fit his shower in before the inevitable primp-fest. As he started the water, he couldn’t help his nervous look over at the mirror. Sleep-rumpled hair, gangly limbs (not much better than the noodle arms he had at 12, really)…and normal—if tired--eyes. He went up close to check, just in case, but perfectly average eyes, _his eyes_ , stared back. He let out a sigh of relief.

There. Just a dream. That was it.

He managed to get his shower finished and was halfway through brushing his teeth as rapid-fire knocks hit the door.

“If you’re doing anything weird, you need to stop because I’m coming in!”

Dipper rolled his eyes with a smile before spitting out his toothpaste. “Good morning, Mabel.”

The door burst open, and Mabel in all her wide-awake glory pushed her way in.

“Actually, it’s an _amazing_ morning! And you know why, bro-bro?” Before he could answer, Mabel shoved a mortarboard onto his head. “ _Because today is the day the Pines Twins graduate!_ Selfie-time!”

Before he knew what was happening, Mabel, despite being almost a whole foot shorter than him now, had him in a headlock, got her own mortarboard on, and snapped a picture of the two of them.

“Now for a caption…” Mabel chewed her lip thoughtfully. “Maybe…’Graduation? More like Gradu-great-tion?’ Nah, that doesn’t work. Maybe something simple, like ‘Rad Grads’!”

“How about ‘I nearly suffocated my brother before he even got to the school?’” he suggested, taking off the mortarboard to put just a bit—a _little tiny bit_ —of product in his hair. Just to keep it manageable!

“Booooo.” Her face lit up. “I’ve got it. ‘So long, high school! Hashtag the-college-adventures-of-Dipper-and-Mabel’. It sounds like a movie!”

“ _Def_ initely not.”

Mabel groaned. “Are you still being weird about your name?”

“It’s not _really_ my name. You can’t call a grown man ‘Dipper’.”

“Well, I can still call him Captain Butt-face!”

“Oh my god, Mabel, are you twelve?”

“I’d rather be twelve than the _boringest_ graduate ever.”

Dipper rolled his eyes and grabbed his mortarboard. “Don’t you have some, I don’t know, _stuff_ to put in your hair?”

Mabel gasped. “Oh, my god, you’re right! I need to get everything for my hashtag o-o-t-d.”

“You do know it’s the most annoying thing when you say ‘hashtag’ out loud.”

“Well, you need to hashtag _get out!_ ” Mabel pushed him out of the bathroom with surprising force. “I do my best work alone.”

The door slammed shut, and Dipper groaned as he heard Sev’ral Timez start blasting from the other side of the door. “Mabel, you _know_ they’re clones! You were _there!_ ”

“I can still appreciate the art!”

He rolled his eyes again, then looked down at the mortarboard. High School Graduation.

The first step to the rest of his life.

~

And it was _the most boring step ever._

“…Yesinia Marquez…Nathaniel Matteson…Gillian Michaelis…”

Mabel groaned and threw her head back, the mortarboard almost taking off Dipper’s nose. “Graduation is the _woooorst_.”

“Shut up, people can still see us,” he whispered.

Mabel groaned again, bringing her head back up as they took a step forward. “I thought it’d be _exciting._ You know, banners everywhere, everyone starts singing and doing an intense choreographed routine…”

“I _told_ you watching ‘Musical High: The Musical About High School 3’ last night was a bad idea.” They took another step forward. “How would we even know the choreography?”

“You just _do_. It’s an innate part of high school!” She motioned to the stage. “ _This_ is not _._ ”

“It’s still better than prom.”

“Better than _your_ prom. _My_ prom was one completely worthy of Musical High 2.” Another step forward. “I could have called Candy and Grenda down. You could have gone to prom with a girl on each arm.”

“ _Pass._ And what did _you_ do differently at prom? You sat with me half the night.”

“And the _other_ half was spent dancing with every boy on the lacrosse team.”

“For thirty seconds each.”

“And each one was _magical._ ” Mabel gasped as the Vice-Principal called “Rory Olandu.” “It’s almost time for _us!_ ”

She and Dipper exchanged big smiles as they reached the stairs to the stage.

“Christopher Peters…Mabel Pines…”

Mabel wore a huge grin as she made her way across the stage, stopping halfway to throw glitter into the air. One of the teachers standing behind her let out a scream and covered her eyes. Mabel glanced back, then gave a little shrug as she took her diploma and exited.

At the stairs, Dipper held his breath. This was the big moment, the one he’d been preparing himself for since the start of Senior year.

“…Mason Pines…”

Mason. _Mason._ A normal, adult-sounding name that didn’t require an awkward explanation and even more awkward birth-mark reveal. That was practically the whole graduation in itself. He walked across the stage, head held high, reveling in this new-found adulthood.

“Woooo!! Yeah, Dipper! That’s my brother! That’s my brother!! Wooooooo! _”_

The moment was broken as Mabel started cheering him on from the sidelines. He wanted to tell her to shut up, but…well, she meant well. She always did.

_But why was she always such an IDIOT?_

Dipper froze on stage as he took his diploma, the thought still echoing in his head. Had… _he_ thought that? Where had it come from? And why did that voice in his head sound… _different?_

The Principal frowned at him. “Son, you’re gonna have to take the paper,” he whispered. “We still got 200 kids to go through.”

“Huh? O-oh. Sorry.” He took the rolled paper and went down the steps, the thought—or, well, the thoughts _about_ the thought—still bouncing in his head, and only stopped when Mabel grabbed him for the photo-op spot just off-stage.

“Say something stupid!” she chirped.

“Something stupid.” They said it together, but Dipper’s voice was much less…enthusiastic.

Maybe he was just stressed from all the excitement.

~

Not like there was much. Really, the whole day was pretty boring. Afterparty in the gym—full of congratulations, “We did it”s, and their parents lowkey bragging about Mabel getting into FEDM School of Fashion Marketing in Los Angeles and Dipper (“ _Mom_.” “Oh, sorry, _Mason._ ”) being accepted to UC Northisland’s Archaeology Program—then dinner with Grandpa Shermy and Grandma Ava, then Mabel going out to party and cry with all the girl friends she _promised_ she would be seeing after high school.

Dipper opted for a night-in. He was never much of a partier, and he had things to do. Like…clean his glasses. A lot. Look up UC Northisland’s campus…again. Organize his BABBA collection before hiding it under his bed again. Re-sort his…All right, so he was just trying to find things to do until Mabel came home. He wasn’t like her; he didn’t have friends who wanted to spend all night with him. He helped save the world, yeah, but no one in Piedmont knew that. Here, he was still Dipper with the stupid birthmark, Dipper who was tricked into thinking the middle school janitor was Bigfoot, Dipper who came back from his trip up to Oregon talking about gnomes and aliens and portals.

He huffed and grabbed the acceptance letter from his corkboard. He read it over again; he’d read it so many times it was practically memorized, but it was remarkably good for grounding him.

_“Dear Mason Pines,_

_It is our pleasure to inform you that you have been selected to join the UC Northisland’s Archaeology Program this September. Our exclusive program will pave the way for you to join archaeology’s best and brightest…”_

Despite all of his insistence, it was still weird seeing “Mason Pines” on paper outside of a yearbook. He really had hated it up until a couple years ago, and by then it was too late to ask anyone to start calling him that. So it still didn’t feel quite _right._ But that’s…kind of what made it perfect _._ He had a clean slate now. Mason Pines was going to be an archaeologist. Mason Pines wouldn’t be associated with birthmarks or stories no one believed. Mason Pines was…was just going to be a normal guy.

 _Yeah, sure, sounds_ thrilling. _But I know that’s not what you want._

Dipper froze as the thought entered his head. No. No no no. It couldn’t be.

_Relaaaax, buddy. The only reason you’re thinking in his voice is because of that spooky dream you had._

Dipper grimaced. “I don’t know that. It could be wrong,” he muttered, just in case.

 _It’s not wrong, but fine, whatever. Let’s focus on the real problem, though: archaeology is_ BORING!

“What? No, it’s not!” Was he really arguing with himself outloud? Maybe he was crazy.

 _Or maybe you’re bored. Sure, being_ Professor Mason Pines _sounds neat, but you’ll go_ full _crazy if you follow that. Besides…_ I _know that’s not what you want to do. You’ve known what you’ve wanted to do since you were twelve years old, pal._

Without realizing it, Dipper’s gaze had turned to the journal tucked in with the other books on his desk, the very top of a blue pine tree poking out.

That’s _what you wanna do. You wanna be just like Old Ford. I bet your kicking yourself for not taking that apprenticeship._

“Definitely not. I wasn’t ready then; I was still a kid.”

_Well, you aren’t anymore. And you can always go back._

Dipper shut his eyes. “I can’t.”

 _Well, I guess you_ could _just fill that journal with archaeology notes._

Dipper looked up at the journal again, brow furrowed. He pulled it out and peeked through the pages. Barely ten entries written; the rest was blank.

_Come on, Pine Tree, you know what to do._

“Don’t call me that,” he said sharply to his mind. He must be tired.

 _Then come on,_ Dipper Pines _. You can’t let your dreams get away without a fight._

Dipper let out a breath as he looked down at the journal. Maybe that voice was on to something.

~

Mabel was a half-giggling, half-sobbing wreck when she was finally dropped off at home. More than that, though, she was _exhausted._ She pulled herself up the stairs, slowly, wondering why she’d worn _heels_ all day. When she reached down to pet Waddles in the corridor, though, the door in front of her creaked open.

“Mabel…”

She looked up with a gasp, hand automatically clenching into a fist, just in case. Grunkle Stan had, after all, taught her that a lot of things are punchable. She relaxed as the door opened more, the dim corridor light showing it was just Dipper.

“Wow, okay, _do not_ do that. I almost punched you in the face!” she said, plunking down beside her pig. Dipper looked at her for a long moment, then swallowed.

“Mabel, we…we need to go to Gravity Falls.”

 


	2. Roadtrip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the all the roadtrips Dipper had taken, this one could have been better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Figured I should put in a little tiny note about updates and whatnot. My goal is to update every Monday or Tuesday, BUT I can't promise anything entirely steady until September, so I figured I'd give the warning now that the next month might be a little irregular.

“ROOOOADTRIP!”

Dipper looked up at Mabel’s cheer, and he frowned as he saw the bags swinging from her arms. “I thought everything was in your bag.”

“All _my_ stuff, yeah. These are all _road-trip essentials_.” It took a struggle, but she managed to open the door without setting down any of the bags. “We’ve got snacks, sodas, the _best_ roadtrip CDs, and…”

Before he knew what was happening, something was shoved onto Dipper’s head, nearly pushing off his glasses.

“Your Wendy hat!” Mabel winked. “So maybe you can get a little _action_.”

“How is an old hat supposed to get me action?” he asked dryly, taking it off. He looked down at it for a moment, then set it in the back seat. “Not to mention that that crush has been done for five years. I don’t even think she lives in Gravity Falls anymore.”

Mabel sighed, then reached up to set her hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “Listen, Dip-Dip…”

“Okay, _definitely_ don’t call me that ever again.”

“…if I’m an expert in _anything_ , it’s crushes. You never forget that first one.” She shrugged. “You’re kinda obligated to love them for the rest of your life.” She pressed her hands to his cheeks to pull him to her level, eyes wide. “And who knows? The stars might align and she’ll be back in town, then she’ll see that you’re tall and shower regularly now, and _love will happen!_ ”

“Okay, first rule of the summer: you can’t read any romances.” Dipper pulled himself away to head back towards the house. “Mom! Dad! We’re about to leave!” he called, then turned back to Mabel. “Anyway, I think _both_ of us learned that summer romances are the worst.”

“Excuse _you_. I had some of my _best_ romantic experiences in Gravity Falls,” Mabel argued.

“Well, then, hey, maybe you’ll get lucky. I’m sure Gabe Benson’s still around.”

“ _We don’t talk about him, Mason Pines_.”

“I dunno, I think you’d have a shot. I mean, felt can only get you so far…”

“Omigod, you are _SO GROSS!_ ”

He laughed as their mom reached the door, looking over them anxiously.

“You’re still sure about doing this on your own?” she asked worriedly. “Dad or I could drive for you.”

“ _Mom_ , we’re three months away from being adults,” Mabel groaned. “We’re _fine._ ”

“You filled up the car?” Mrs. Pines asked.

“First thing this morning,” Dipper assured.

“And you really do have a place to stay?”

“Soos said there’s still room at the Mystery Shack,” Mabel said.

“And you know not to play your music too loud? And if you’re still on your way past eleven, Di—” Dipper cleared his throat. “—Mason _has_ to drive. And don’t rely on your GPS, you might not have signal. Also try not to—”

“ _Mom_. We’re fine,” Dipper assured. “We’ll call when we get there. Which,” he added, “will be before nine tonight.”

Mrs. Pines bit her lip. “It’s just…it’s a long trip. I’m worried.”

Dipper frowned. “You pretty much dropped us onto a Speedy Beaver bus and left last time we went.”

“Yes, but you weren’t _driving!_ ”

“Mom, we’ll be _fine,_ ” Mabel assured, walking over to give her mom a hug. “If anything goes wrong, we’ll let you know.”

Mrs. Pines let out a breath, then gave each of them a hug goodbye as their father stepped outside. “Be safe up there.”

“And tell your Grunkle Stan hi from his favorite nephew. If he’s not too busy with that research, that is,” Mr. Pines added with a wink before giving Mabel a hug.

The twins glanced at each other, each holding back a smile. It was only after coming back from _that_ summer that their parents had revealed their master-plan: spending their summer with Stanford—who, _of course_ , was a scientist—was meant to be educational. They’d tried to explain that they’d _actually_ spent most of the summer with Stan _ley_ , and that Stan _ford_ had been sucked into an alternate dimension through a portal he’d built to better understand the weirdness of Gravity Falls…but they hadn’t even gotten to the journals before being shot down. Stanley, their father said, had died in a car accident thirty years ago; Uncle Stanford was such a kidder!

At that point, it wasn’t worth the energy to explain it.

Mr. Pines gave Dipper’s shoulder a pat as well as an obligatory “Drive safe!” and soon enough, they were off onto the highway and up to Gravity Falls.

~

The first few hours were fun.  Mabel, of course, sang along to every song on her roadtrip playlist, often with accompanying hand motions and car-friendly dance moves; between CD swaps, they’d play “Who’s That Driver?”—you had to come up with a story for the drivers around you—and argue over who had the better story (each round ended up being a draw). By the time they got to the Redwoods, though, things began to get quiet. The windows were down at Mabel’s insistence, so they got every bit of “spicy goodness” (her words) from the trees outside, the radio was off, and she was quietly sketching out clothing designs.

Ordinarily, this was the part of a roadtrip that Dipper loved the most. It gave him some time to just zone out and let his mind wander. But this time…his mind wasn’t wandering to the right places. He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel.

“Hey, Mabel?”

“Yuh-huh?”

Dipper’s brow furrowed as he stared at the road ahead. “Do you…think you made the right choice? Y’know, with going to FEDM?”

“Oh, definitely.”

“Well, I mean, you wanted to be a singer when you were little.”

Mabel laughed. “I _also_ wanted to be a hamster.” She shaded in a part of her drawing. “But clothing design is what I like to do.”

“But you’re going into Marketing.”

“Well, yeah. You remember when I took over the Mystery Shack; I’m _amazing_ at business.”

Dipper eked out a smile. “When you’re not giving money away as an apology.”

Mabel laughed again, giving him a little tiny shove. “And when _you_ don’t bring in a Gremomobolin.”

“ _Gremoblin_ ,” Dipper corrected, smile fading. Mabel glanced over at him, then rubbed his shoulder.

“What’s the matter, bro-bro?”

Dipper sighed. “I don’t know. I just…it’s just hit me that we’re going to _college_. We’re shaping the rest of our lives. Is archaeology what I want to do? What if…” His eye twitched and both unfocused, and he let out a strange, high-pitched giggle. As his eyes started to water, it turned into a full laugh. “What if I just start driving into the next lane? How long d’you think we’d have ‘til we have a massive pile-up?”

Mabel pulled back, eyes wide. “Dipper?”

Dipper sucked in a gasp and shook his head. _What_ had he just said? He blinked, then quickly pulled over to the side of the road. “Sorry, I don’t…I don’t know…” He sighed, letting his head fall forward onto the steering wheel. “I think it’s time we switch. My eyes are starting to hurt.”

Mabel stared at him. “But what _was_ that?”

“What was what?”

“What _just_ happened! With the laughing and…and _pile-ups_?”

Dipper took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes; they were still tearing up. Weird. “I don’t know. I just—sometimes _things_ just pop into my head. You know, like when you get to the top of the building and you just think ‘What if I jumped?’”

“But you don’t say that out loud! _Especially_ not to your _passenger._ ”

“Well, maybe I can’t control it when I’m stressed, Mabel!” Dipper snapped. He huffed as he rubbed his eyes again. “Sorry, sorry. Can you…can you just drive for a while? I need to take a rest.”

Mabel frowned at him for a moment longer, then unbuckled her seatbelt and got out without a word. Dipper took a breath before doing the same. Really, though, what _had_ that been about? And that _laugh_ he’d had—even he knew it didn’t sound like him. He stretched his back before getting in on the passenger side.

“Your legs are too long,” Mabel grumbled once she got in, moving the seat up.

“Blame Dad for that.” He set his glasses in one of the cupholders and leaned his seat back.

Mabel started up the car again, then glanced over. “You wanna talk about it?”

“ _No,_ Mabel. I just need a little sleep. Then I’ll be fine, I promise.” He got as comfortable as he could. He just needed to rest his eyes for a bit. The driving was getting to him.

That was all.

~

“So here’s the funny thing about humans and dreams, Pine Tree…”

Dipper sat up, wide-eyed, at _that voice_. He looked around. A…forest? No, the forest outside Gravity Falls. Why was he here? He started to push himself up, but his hands sank too deep into the black dirt. He shook his head.

_Bill was gone. Bill was gone. Bill was…_

He let out a cry as a cane slammed down into the earth, too close to his trapped hand for comfort.

“It’s hard to tell whether things are just the crazy transfer of images from the conscious to the subconscious, or if they actually _mean something._ ”

Heart pounding, he slowly looked up, bracing for the worst, only to let out a relieved laugh as Stan leaned onto his eight-ball cane.

“Oh, man, am I glad to see you!” he said. “I thought…I thought…”

Grunkle Stan shook his head with his usual raspy chuckle, then leaned down to hoist Dipper up. “See, it’s even worse with lucid dreamers like you. Then you add in the whole ‘I don’t like what my subconscious is telling me’ and ‘my dreams should have more hot babes’ and whatnot, and your dreams turn into a real mess. Here, follow me, kid.”

Dipper walked beside Stan, brow furrowed. “But…well, anything’s possible in the mindscape, right? _You_ told me that.”

The trees were growing denser, and Stan gave no reply. He stopped, bobbing his head around to try and get a look. “Grunkle Stan?”

“Well, yeah, but there’s such a thing as having _too_ much control, dude.”

Dipper flinched at the light flick on the back of his head, and he turned around. Wendy set her hands on her hips, smiling at him. That should have surprised him more, but it didn’t. Weird.

“Dreams aren’t any fun if you’re just controlling them all the time,” she said, then gave him a friendly little punch. “Come on, man, you gotta let loose sometimes.”

Dipper sighed as he set himself down on a (conveniently imagined) fallen tree. “I don’t know. I just…ever since I got possessed by Bill, I just…it’s a defense, y’know? If I’m in charge of what happens in my dreams, then that means no one else is. I’m _safe.”_

“Dude, I was _there_. Bill’s gone,” Wendy said, sitting beside him. She smiled a bit and leaned forward. “And…I think it’s time you let yourself have some _fun_ dreams.”

He looked up at her curiously, his stomach doing a funny twist at the look on her face. “Y…eah?”

“Yeah.” She scooted in closer to him, leaning even closer as her eyes closed. Dipper swallowed. He would stop this in his dream. It was weird. But…also kind of great. He let go of the dream and let it progress. The dream grew less sharp, less solid, jumped ahead, his lips on hers already and arms wrapped around each other, jumped back to them walking in the forest, jumped forward again to the moment their lips met.

Maybe there _was_ something in non-lucid dreaming.

All at once, Wendy was on the other end of the tree, smiling at him. “See? It’s _fun._ ” She chuckled to herself. “God, you humans and your drive to _breed_. Works every time.”

Dipper’s dream suddenly came back into sharp focus. “You… _what_?”

Wendy’s head tilted back and she laughed—but not her laugh. A shrill, echoing laugh. Abruptly, the tree began to sink into the earth. Dipper tried to pull himself off, but the bark had encased his legs, holding him fast. How had that happened? _Why couldn’t he stop_ it?

He reached up with a scream, clawing at the earth as he sank deeper. Wendy peeked down at him, a too-wide smile on her face, then began flickering in and out. Dipper gasped in a lungful of dirt as he saw a glowing triangle in her place, his one eye squinting down happily.

“Looks like you’ve got some problems in your subconscious here, Pine Tree! It’d be a shame if they got any worse!” Bill called down.

“Help! _HELP!_ ” Dipper tried to call as more dirt fell on him. The hole above kept growing smaller and smaller; he was going to suffocate. Bill merely laughed.

“Wish I could, kid, but I’ve got places to be. Also…” The dirt stopped, and Dipper found himself frozen in place, left staring up at Bill. “You might want to check your hands when you wake up. You might have done something _pretty_ neat while you were out.”

 _Mabel._ The name popped into his mind, but Dipper couldn’t speak, couldn’t thrash himself awake. Bill tipped his hat.

“See ya on the flipside, kid,” he sang, then disappeared as Dipper was buried completely.

~

“ _Mabel!_ ”

The car swerved a bit, and Dipper sat up with a gasp, only to get a hard shove to his arm.

“Don’t _do_ that! We could have crashed!”

Dipper looked over at her, taking a few deep breaths. They were in the car, on the way to Gravity Falls. His glasses were in the cupholder, and a British Charming Boys CD was in the CD player. He pulled up his seat, then quickly leaned down to grab one of Mabel’s gossip magazines, opening it to a random page and starting to read.

Mabel glanced over at him, frowning. “You…all right there, bro-bro?”

“Did I do anything bad? While I was asleep?” he asked quickly, focusing hard on the drama between contestants on the last episode of “Rose O’ Love”.

“Well, I mean, you fidgeted a lot and kept doing your weird almost-talking thing, but that’s pretty normal.” She glanced at him again. “Did you have a bad dream?”

Finally sure he was awake, he slumped back in his seat with a sigh. “Yeah. It was…it was something.”

Mabel reached a hand over to pat his arm, then gave him a smile. “Well, I’ve got some good news for you. Look up ahead!”

Dipper grabbed his glasses and put them on just in time to see the highway sign: “Gravity Falls – ½ Mi.”

“The Mystery Twins are _officially_ back in town!” Mabel cheered as they exited the highway.

Dipper finally managed a smile, then brought his hand up to rub his eyes. He stopped, heart thudding, as he saw what was drawn on it. He tilted his head, then let out a laugh.

“Okay, good one, Mabel.”

“Good what?”

“This.” He held up his hand, showing her the turkey that had been drawn on it. “Just tell me you pulled over when you did it.”

Mabel frowned and looked at the hand as they reached a stop sign. “I didn’t draw that. My hand turkeys are _much_ better.”

Dipper’s smile died, and he stared down at his hand. So…did that mean…? He sat back in his seat, staring ahead as the “Welcome to Gravity Falls” sign came into view. He could have sworn he heard _that_ voice, very lightly, give a long laugh.

_Welcome back, Pine Tree. Time for us to have some fun._

 

 

 


End file.
